


you had me at hello

by trashiestofthemall



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Angst with a Happy Ending, I tried my best here, M/M, One-Shot, Prompt Fic, You've been warned, a mess, but they still like each other, jeongin is so cute, jisung hates mornings, minho is his sworn enemy, no beta we die like men, written at 3am once again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 23:27:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24425002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashiestofthemall/pseuds/trashiestofthemall
Summary: Han Jisung was never a morning person. So when his morning goes to shit because of someone he never expected to meet ever again, he’s royally pissed.Or so he thinks.Soulmate!AU where what you write on your arms will also appear on your soulmate’s if you’re in a 10 meter radius of each other.Based off a prompt I got from my friends.
Relationships: Bang Chan & Yang Jeongin | I.N, Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know, Lee Felix & Seo Changbin, Lee Felix/Seo Changbin
Comments: 6
Kudos: 132





	you had me at hello

It wasn’t even time for his afternoon classes, yet his day was already going to shit.

Han Jisung never was a morning person. His roommate, Hyunjin, had to always drag the younger out of the comfort of his bed just to report for his morning shift at the cafe before his afternoon classes. Jisung was desperate to pay off his debts, like the broke college student he was, and when an opportunity presented itself he took it immediately.

One thing that he loved about the early mornings he spent alone, setting up the store, was the fragrance of freshly roasted coffee beans. His tea drinker friends, or rather, Seungmin, could never relate to the strong scent and claimed that it ‘assaulted his nostrils’ that early in the morning. Jisung would remind him that he was a mere coward for not succumbing to the superiority of coffee as he prepared two earl grey lattes for the boy. Along with the brown-haired’s favourite, a ham and cheese croissant.

That day had started off like any other. Hyunjin throwing the blankets off Jisung, Jisung grumbling as he stomped to the toilet to get ready, and gratefully accepted the clothes his roommate had left for him on the counter. While they weren’t related by blood, they were raised together since their parents were close. Since then, they’ve been inseparable. Right after pulling on a simple striped button down tucked into dark-washed jeans, he styled his hair quickly before rushing out. He grabs his trusty white Converse sneakers, set by the door from the night before, and pulls them on, grabbing his leather satchel and coat on the bench. He yells out a goodbye to Hyunjin, before starting the short walk to the cafe.

Opening time was 7am, and luckily for him, he arrived at 6:30. Entering the store from the back, Jisung swiftly tied on the brown apron and pinned on his nametag, reading ‘the most handsome boy, Han Jisung ;-)’. He’s been teased countless times by his friends for the cringe-worthy words scribbled onto the pin, but Han Jisung was no liar. He wasn’t that bad looking in the first place. 

Chan, his co-worker, enters the cafe right after Jisung turns on the register. He gives the older a small smile, taking note of the large bags underneath his hazel eyes. Chan was a music production major, hence the late nights and constant need for caffeine. If anything, Chan was the older brother Jisung wished he had. The moment he started work, the older constantly guided him in whatever he was tasked to do: Whether it was arranging stock in the store room, or making the diabetic drinks that college students loved to indulge in, Chan was there for all of it. Heck, he was even there outside of work hours, lending Jisung a helping hand in his production work and listening to his compositions, giving him constructive feedback here and there.

Chan met his soulmate already, a freshman by the name of Yang Jeongin. In Jisung’s opinion, the system was, in other words, clapped. You would only know your soulmate if whatever he or she wrote on their arms appeared on yours, within a 10 meter radius. He remembered the day, when angry scribbling of math formulas appeared on the Australian’s arm during the weekend shift. When Chan looked up, he saw the red-haired boy in the corner with his brows furrowed, trying to understand what was written on the paper in front of him. After a gentle push from Jisung to ‘go get him!’, Chan awkwardly made his way over to the cosy little corner his soulmate was seated in, before revealing to him that yes, they were soulmates, and no, they didn’t even know anything about each other.

So, while Chan spent his shift getting to know his soulmate, a regretful Jisung struggled to whip up beverages for the caffeine and sugar deprived student community.

Right on the dot at 7, Changbin and Felix stroll in, hand in hand as per usual. The couple always were the first to stop by in order to claim their warm pastries and caramel macchiatos, before seating themselves by the booth right by the glass windows to people-watch. Jisung found it cute, really, to see the soulmates spend their mornings together when he knew their classes only began hours later. 

His next customer would be Hyunjin himself, stealing whatever freshly-baked cookies he could before running off to the dance studio for class. Being a dance major, he demanded that he be supplemented with enough sugar to get a rush, and keep him energetic during his class. Jisung never collected payment from him though, only earning a slap to the arm with the excuse, “I have to wake you up, dress you, feed you in the morning. This is your payment for my services!” 

Following them would be a girl by the name of Soojin who only ordered a Cotton Candy Frappe, and Wonpil, who picked up a few sandwiches for his girl friend on his way to the recording studios. Seulgi and Kibum, the campus sweetheart's, would sometimes stop by for a quick chat over iced Americanos, and the stray cat, Dori (named by yours truly) would show up at times, pawing at Jisung’s feet for a snack. Slowly, the morning rush would begin, Chan and Jisung quickly taking and putting out orders. On a normal day, the crowd would clear by 10:30, Jisung would clear and wipe down the tables a final time, before leaving the store at 11 to make his way for his first class on the other side of campus. 

But this being one of the most fucked up days of his life, right after Hyunjin came to steal the cookies that he ‘deserved’, Jisung’s worst nightmare comes walking through the doors. 

Lee Minho.

Lee Minho, if you knew him on a surface level, was honestly not a bad guy. One of the most outstanding dance majors in the whole level, good looks and grades made him the student others envied. He was also the type who had a close knit friend circle, girls and guys fawning over him. 

He was Han Jisung’s first (and only) crush, and also his sworn enemy. 

☼

It all began back in highschool, like the already cliché life he led. He had first met Minho when the older was promoting the dance club during orientation week. Jisung was taken aback by the Minho’s aura the second he stepped into the classroom with a few others, carrying a board. The younger could barely focus on the content the boy was talking about, and as soon as they locked gazes the older’s smile only widened, Jisung letting out a small squeak of surprise and quickly turning away to look outside the window.

You could say he had fallen for him at first sight.

At the time, he and Hyunjin were already friends. The duo had decided to audition for the dance club together, even though Hyunjin already knew Jisung didn’t really like to do it. But upon finding out that the squirrel-looking boy had a crush on one of the popular member’s, he had used that to his advantage to drag his best friend to the dance studios on the day of the audition.

After the students were split according to their genders, they were to pair up as a pair would be assigned a member to teach them the choreography they would be assessed on. And of course, the member assigned to them was the one and only Lee Minho. As he approached the duo, a smirk made its way onto his face, recognising the now red-faced boy from the classroom. Without wasting any time, Minho immediately began teaching the choreography. Luckily for Jisung and Hyunjin, they were in one of the quieter corners of the studio and were able to pick up the moves with ease. All they needed was a little more time for self-practice and some guidance.

When Minho’s arm gently moved Jisung’s into the right position, the younger felt a shiver run down his spine. The older was pressed against his back, face positioned next to his ear. 

“When you move your arm, do it like this. That way, you won’t injure yourself,” Jisung’s breath hitched as Minho whispered the advice into his ear, and he could only nod weakly in response. 

“God, I wish I had _the_ Lee Minho teaching me instead,” Jisung heard one of the auditionees mutter from the girl’s side of the studio, just as Minho gave him a pat on the shoulder and left to grab a sip of water. At that very comment, his already flushed face continued to turn even redder, Hyunjin snickering beside him.

Amazingly, they, along with a few others, were the lucky ones accepted into the club. Hence, Jisung had the right and blessing to see a sweaty, and sometimes shirtless, Minho toiling away in the studios, teaching new dances and choreographing numerous combos to trending songs. The younger was always taken aback by his talent, even though they had become closer than before. There was just no way that someone could possess such an ability to dance as easily as breathing, it’s impossible. 

The dance crew idea with a smaller group of members from the club was just something they did on a whim. The moment the boys saw the opportunity to win a cash prize from a dance competition, they just knew they had to sign up. The club was running low on funds and they definitely needed some support that wasn’t from their own pockets. At the end of every practice, it would be Minho and Jisung staying behind, continuing to work on the choreographies and coming up with new ideas, tracks and stunts.

It started off with the auditions, and the little crew that didn’t even expect themselves to go far continued to progress till the international level in New York. Minho, being the leader of their crew, held a celebratory dinner the night before the competition day itself, and kept everyone’s spirit’s high for the entirety of the night. 

By this time, Jisung’s more than obvious crush was known by the entire crew, except the oblivious king himself, Minho. So whenever Minho did the smallest of actions during their choreography, such as that one piece where he grinded down to the floor, you could say that Jisung struggled to get by the day, fully intact. There were close calls, of course. (He’s gonna leave that to the imaginations of others.)

On the day of the competition, they had planned to perform the piece that Minho and Jisung collaborated on choreographing and producing. While Jisung loved dancing, he loved producing music equally. Thus, when he asked Minho about the idea of a completely self produced and choreographed piece, the older of the duo agreed almost immediately and got to work. 

Jisung remembers how the lights accentuated the way Minho’s body moved, the way his turns produced such beautiful shadows. He could deliver such raw emotions through his movements to whoever was watching, and kept them in a trance that they could never snap out of until it was the end of the performance. Jisung remembers the looks of surprise painted on the faces of the judges as he revealed that the piece was entirely produced by themselves, and out of the corner of his eyes, he saw Minho’s eyes glistening with pride.

However, the worst was yet to come.

It came when they won, actually. He vividly remembered the tension, thick in the air surrounding them, when all the teams were waiting to hear who had won first. They had announced the third and second places rather quickly, and time seemed to stop when the announcer recited into the microphone. 

“Lee Minho’s and Han Jisung’s piece, Close, takes first!”

The hall erupted into loud cheers, applause filling the air. Hollers and woops were loudest from the crew themselves, huddling together, jumping with joy. Jisung will never forget the way Minho’s eyes glittered with pride, happiness, and another feeling Jisung couldn’t pinpoint at the time. (He realises years later, that it was love.) As they skipped off the stage, Minho was swarmed by numerous news reporters, all wanting to hear how the small crew from nowhere managed to take home first place. 

“Firstly, I’d like to thank you all for your continuous support throughout this competition. From all my time in our humble dance club, we’ve never once won any award, and never imagined to obtain such a title in our lives,” Minho started. 

And here’s where it hurt the most. 

“I guess it wasn’t sheer luck that we won. Jisung and I here worked together to produce this masterpiece,” the older glanced at the younger, before continuing, 

“But truth to be told, it was all me.”

What. The. Fuck?

Jisung could not believe what he had heard from the older. _It was all me?_ What kind of a statement was that? He felt his heart shatter into a million pieces as Minho continued to smile and wave at the countless reporters in front of him. Even though he stood right next to the boy who made his heart skip all the time, the feeling of standing next to him filled Jisung with disgust and anger. After giving the older one last look, he ran backstage, gathering his belongings scattered over the dressing table. He ignored the way his crewmates gave him concerned looks as he hastily shoved his costume into his sling bag, pulling on his hoodie and sweats before storming out the hall by the back entrance. 

Jisung was not just pissed, he was royally pissed. How could Minho just claim ownership over the work that was _theirs?_ Did the long hours they spent in the dingy recording studio they rented, the countless injuries they experienced in the dance studio, not count to him? The times when just the two of them stayed behind, nit-picking on every little detail to perfect the choreography, was it not Minho _and_ Jisung?

Needless to say, Jisung went back to his hometown on the earliest flight that night, saving his tears for when he got home, and broke down in the comforting arms of his family. Lee Minho had taken his trust, _his love,_ he wanted to say, and washed it down the drain.

_Fuck Lee Minho._

☼

And yet, he stands in front of Jisung, shock evident on his face as he faces the boy he had not seen in years.

“Jisung.”

“Minho.” The name sounded _so wrong_ on his tongue, leaving an unpleasant taste in his mouth. “What are you doing here?”

“I’d ask you the same,” the once black-haired, now ashy-brown, shot back at him. The only thing that seemed to change was his hair colour, his athletic frame remained the same since the times Jisung would call him his friend. Now, they were barely acquaintances, they were _enemies_. 

“I work here, you ass-hat. Now what do you want to order, if you’re here just to annoy me I’m afraid I’ll have to see you out,” Jisung spat at the older, and noticed the way he flinched, as if he was taken aback by Jisung’s tone. 

“I’ll have a peppermint tea, with honey. And a chocolate eclair please,” Jisung’s fingers flew across the screen, already expecting Minho to order the usual, wherever he went. He still remembers when the older confessed that he wasn’t much of a coffee drinker, and Jisung, the love-sick idiot at the time, never called him out for it. 

The transaction was completed silently, Minho swiping his card before Jisung muttered, “Your order will be ready in a few minutes.” He nodded, before choosing a seat in a somewhat secluded corner of the cafe.

Jisung sighed, passing the cup to Chan, the order scribbled on it hastily. The older, aware of the sudden change in his demeanour, gave him an understanding smile as he took the paper cup from him. The younger huffed as he placed the eclair on a plate, adding a fork to the tray before carrying the completed order to his sworn enemy, sitting alone in the corner. 

“Enjoy,” Jisung dead-panned, already turning to walk away, before he felt someone grabbing his wrist, gently pulling on it. He turned, only to find a pleading look in Minho’s eyes. 

“Stay, please. I want to talk to you,” the older begged. Jisung’s eyes widened, before hardening again. He dragged the chair opposite the ashy-browned, the legs making a loud scratching noise against the floor. Jisung winced, ears sensitive at the annoying noise, before sitting down to face the boy.

“What do you want-”

“I missed you.”

If someone could describe Jisung’s face in a word, it would be incredulous. “What?”

“Jisungie, I missed you so much,” Minho’s voice softened, eyes locking with Jisung’s, the nickname stinging at the younger’s heart. “After the competition that day, I don’t know what got into me to say that, god I wish I could take it back.”

Jisung scoffed. “Quit trying to make me feel bad for you. You knew,” Jisung’s balled fist tightened, hands under the table, “You _knew_ how hard we worked. Not just you, _us._ It was Han Jisung and Lee Minho, Lee Minho and Han Jisung. We worked our asses off for that very moment, and you decide to take all the credit? I should’ve known that you were going to do that, and your pity party won’t change my mind.”

“Jisungie, I understand if you’ll never forgive me for that, Heck, I understand if you never want to talk to me-”

“Then leave.” Even Jisung himself couldn’t believe those words left his mouth. “If you already know that I’ll never forgive you, then _leave._ ”

Tears threatened to stain Minho’s already pale face. “If you knew how much you meant to me, if you apologised for it in the past, right after those words left your fucking mouth, then _maybe_ I would’ve thought otherwise. But you show up here, as if you could simply walk into my life again. You know what? Fuck you, Minho. Fuck. You,” Jisung stood up abruptly, leaving the older at the table, shock written all over his face.

“Chan, can you cover for me for a bit? I need to step outside for a while,” the Aussie, who had watched the whole exchange silently from the counter, nodded, gesturing for Jisung to leave the cafe. 

As soon as Jisung stepped outside, he realised that Minho had trailed behind him. 

“You didn’t mean that, did you?” Jisung just had had about enough of Minho at this point, even though his heart was telling him to just accept the older’s apology. 

“I know you didn’t Jisungie, please,” Jisung turned around, a comeback already on the tip of his tongue, at least, before he saw the state Minho was in. Tear streaks painting his cheeks, hair looking as if he’d run his fingers through them over and over again, arms limp by his side. Jisung felt bad, no, he felt horrible. He should’ve just said ‘it’s okay’ and let him be.

God, why did he even hate him again?

For some reason that he didn’t understand, all Jisung wanted to do was wrap the older in a comforting embrace. He looked so broken, as if he had been beaten down to his weakest state. The dim street-lights barely illuminated the boy’s face, but Jisung could tell he was still crying. 

For many times after the incident, he questioned his love for the older. Sometimes, he equated it to puppy love, but soon learned that it really _was_ love. Instead of cursing out at him during the older’s final year of high school and making his life a living hell, he simply watched from afar, as Minho resorted to be comforted by his friends. Jisung had come across countless times he came across Minho looking forlornly in his direction during lunch breaks, or the way he always looked back when they passed each other in the hallways. 

Jisung had long forgiven the boy. He kept his distance because he loved him in a way he knew the older won’t.

And so, Jisung does the one thing he had meant to do all these years. He walks forward, and pulls the older into a tight hug. 

“I forgive you, I already have since the very day after the competition,” he felt as the older’s arms came around to rest comfortably against his waist, his body shaking more violently now. They stood like that in silence, Jisung waiting for the other male to stop crying, before watching him look into Jisung’s eyes.

“I didn’t just lose my crew mate Jisungie, I lost my best friend that day. And I’ve never regretted anything more than that. I thought I lost you forever, I thought that I'd never see the day when I could finally tell you what I wanted to tell you most,” Minho’s gaze was downcast, Jisung used his finger to guide the older’s chin to look up, eyes meeting his.

“What did you want to tell me?”

“That I loved you.” Jisung’s blinked in confusion, Minho’s eyes were filled with desperation. “I’ve always loved you, Jisungie. More than friends, more than best friends, and definitely more than crew mates. I’ve loved you from the audition day. I fell in love with your attitude; You never gave up, you worked hard, you persevered and perfected whatever you were doing to produce the most refined outcome. I was always in awe at how easily you came up with masterpieces, something more than just a mere melody to my ears. Your lyrics spoke volumes, something that I envied.

So just for that day, I wanted to feel that sense of achievement. It’s sick and twisted, I know, but I wanted to feel what it felt like to be you, Han Jisung, just for a second. But that backfired, obviously,” Minho laughed bitterly, “and I ended up not just losing the love of my life, but my best friend too. And that’s something I still regret.”

Jisung was taken aback by the older’s confession, mouth agape. Had he known that this was the reason for his actions, maybe he would have understood, maybe he could have forgiven him earlier. _Maybe things would have been different._

Minho’s soft giggles drew Jisung out of his thoughts. “I can _hear_ how hard you’re thinking. Don’t think too much about what you could have done at that time, Jisungie. Your reaction was justified, and I kind of deserved it for how badly I treated you. I mean, it was my fault in the first place so-”

And Jisung does the thing that he never thought he would. He kisses him.

The kiss was nothing special, no tongue, no sparks flying, no fireworks in the background. It felt like home; Warm, calm, in each other's arms. It was gentle, only lasting for a brief moment before Jisung pulled back, a smile dancing on his lips.

“I forgive you, Minho.” The two share a smile, they know that whatever they had gone through was now a thing of the past, and that they could finally move on to what the future had in store for them. Jisung led Minho by the hand back to the comfort of the cafe, holding the door open for the older to enter.

“Jisung! There you are, I need some- wait, are you okay? What happened out there?” Chan asked the younger boy, as he watched Minho return to his seat. 

“I’m fine, nothing much happened,” Jisung gave Chan a reassuring pat on the back. _Aside from the fact that the boy I love loves me back,_ he smiles, hands grabbing the cups lined up at the counter to prepare the drinks accordingly. An idea makes itself known, and Jisung grabs the nearest black marker on the countertop.

It would be nice to know if it was true.

The seat Minho had chosen wasn’t too far or near to the counter of the cafe, Jisung could see the way the boy fiddled with his phone, munching on his eclair. With a heart-fluttering feeling in his chest, he pushes the marker down onto his arm, quickly scribbling the words. 

_Lee Minho, I love you._

He takes a quick glance over at where the older sat, a small shriek escaping his lips as he watched the words form on his right arm. Jisung smiles, placing the marker back into the pen holder before returning to his task of whipping up sugary concoctions for the ever-growing line of students.

Jisung used to hate waking up in the mornings for his morning shifts. In fact, he was never a morning person. The aroma of coffee was the only thing that made him happy, as he watched the sun rise from behind the counter as he wiped down tables and prepared drink after drink with his co-worker and best friend, Chan.

Han Jisung was never a morning person. 

But just for today, he loved it more than anything else in the world. 

**Author's Note:**

> if you made it through this, i would like to congratulate you because WOW this was messy, rushed and impulsively written (as like all my other works so far). let me know what you think, kudos and comments are greatly appreciated!
> 
> dont forget to stream punch when it comes out! hyunjin with his long hair rlly coming at us like that :""


End file.
